


Ruin Me

by snazzyboi



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Rookies, Bisexual Male Character, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Family Issues, Gay Male Character, Homophobia, I know, M/M, No Radiator Springs, OC-Abby, OC-Dylan, Rivalry, Some OC's - Freeform, i'm putting them in as I see fit, lots of language, oc-levi, these boys are crazy as rookies, this is what we all wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snazzyboi/pseuds/snazzyboi
Summary: Jackson Storm and Lightning McQueen are locked in a rookie rivalry, one that will ruin them and everything around them if it is kept unchecked.
Relationships: Lightning McQueen & Jackson Storm, Lightning McQueen/Jackson Storm
Comments: 24
Kudos: 107





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited for this
> 
> Here is a link to my playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6pPJ4GLfnzZZoPafDRUMUE

JACKSON

I hate him. It is not much of a surprise considering I hate everything. But he, that cocky bastard, he just gets my blood boiling as soon as he walks into my line of vision.

I loathe him. If it weren’t for him, I’d be the best racer in the game. Dinoco would be tripping over their own feet to get to me. One superstar rookie is very enticing. Two superstar rookies are good to look at but don’t touch because they are a ticking time bomb.

I suppose our rivalry brings me lots of attention; I want the fame and money that comes with it. Though all anyone ever wants to talk about is him.

“Storm! Storm! How are you going to beat Lightning?”

“Jackson Storm, is Lightning McQueen a threat to your career?”

“Are you and Lightning friends, or do you really hate each other?”

It’s fucking annoying.

Lightning this, Lightning that, blah, blah, blah. I would rather be struck and killed by real lightning than have to endure another conversation about that douchebag. 

The interviews about him are never long anyway because I am not friendly. That’s another reason I can’t stand him, he is so damn charismatic and the press eats it up. He flashes a smile. Runs a hand through his hair. And they all fall at his feet, men and women alike. They fawn over his Southern charm and pretty eyes. Not that I think they’re pretty.

I simply want to puke any time he speaks. Because I, Jackson Storm, know the real Lightning.   
The Lightning that screams and curses when he sees me pass him. The Lightning that fires his pit crew every week. The Lightning that throws his helmet to the ground when he thinks no one is looking. The Lightning that I trade insults with.

If the world could see him as he is, he would not be so well-liked. I’m not saying I’m above him, I am just as much of an asshole. I’ll see him in hell, I’m sure.

For now, though, I see him on the race track. We have four weeks until the final race and Lightning has the slightest edge on me going into today. I’ve trained ruthlessly though and he will not get in my way. I will be the first rookie to win the Piston Cup when we go to Florida in a month.

***

“Ray please, I think this will look great on my bumper!” 

Ray is my absolutely amazing crew chief and he is basically my father. My real father sucks along with the rest of my biological family and I hate talking about them because I hate them, so I won’t. Ray’s also a thousand percent done with my shit. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long.

The sticker in question I am begging him to let me put on my bumper says ‘Kiss My Ass, McQueen.’ I had it specially made.

“No, no, no. Children watch racing, you do know that?” He uses his firm, dad voice.

“Ray, I am a child,” I whine.

“A child that gets piss drunk every weekend? You are an adult and you should act like one.”

He walks away and I slap it on the bumper. Oops.

“Aw, is that a sticker with my name on it?”

I nearly gag as I turn around. In the flesh, it is Lightning McQueen.

“Yes and you can kiss my ass,” I say.

“Oh no, you won’t be the one getting their ass kissed after today. I’m going to murder you and then Dinoco will be mine. The media is already obsessed with me,” he replies, moving closer to me so that we’re now about a foot apart.

“As if, dickhead. They only like you ‘cause you put on a show for them. I will win today and I will show all the people who ‘are obsessed with you’ who Lightning McQueen really is.” I step even closer, and he can probably feel my heavy breaths on his face.

When we stand right in front of each other like this, it is clear I have a few inches on him.

“You don’t intimidate me in the slightest, Storm. And if you honestly think you can expose me or whatever you said, you are sorely mistaken.” The volume when he speaks is barely a whisper. Only we can hear this.

“Fuck you, McQueen,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Fuck me yourself.” He smirks and begins to walk away.

“You wish!” I call after him.

I watch him strut away like the world is his.

“Kid, get in the damn car. I’m tired of you constantly flirting with McQueen,” Ray says to me, making me jump.

I scoff loudly.

“We are not flirting. We hate each other's guts.”

“Sure. Get in the car.”

I begrudgingly oblige. Flirting my ass. I just need to get focused now. We get onto the track and what feels like seconds later, the green flag is out. As expected, it’s McQueen and me at the front of the pack. It is a familiar feeling, jockeying for position with him. I can practically hear Darrell and Bob. 

“And there they are, Jackson Storm and Lightning McQueen! I’ve never seen any rookies quite like those two!”

“Darrell, I agree. From the start of the season, we’ve had Storm and McQueen tearing up the race track. Between them, I think they have every win so far!”

“I’d be real surprised if they didn’t, they are something else.”

I’m pulled out of my head by Ray’s voice in the headset then a tap on my rear bumper. I glance in my rear-view mirror to see McQueen, who else?

“Goddammit!” I shout.

His tap has pushed me a little towards the outside wall allowing him to take the inside and pass me. That was a mistake on his part, I will gladly play physical.

After another few laps, I’m nearly on top of him so I give him a tap towards the infield and he goes spinning into the dirt. I smirk and I swear I see him flip me off. I will admit, sometimes this game we play is fun. Sometimes.

With Lightning in the back, I’m free to cruise with no opposition. It feels like a training day: easy, relaxing. I hear Ray mention something about McQueen making his way back through the pack. I scoff. Even a racer as good as McQueen can’t get through everyone that fast. So I keep cruising. There are about ten laps to go.

Then, a flash of red flies by me out of nowhere. Ray is screaming in my ear. 

“Shit!” I exclaim.

I slam my foot harder into the gas pedal despite already flooring it. 

Nine laps, I’m still behind but I work toward taking the inside.

Eight laps, my front fender is in line with McQueen’s back one.

Seven, I can see into his back window.

Six, I’m even with his obnoxious ninety-five.

Five, I’m looking into his car. He turns and looks at me too. His helmet obscures my view of his face, but knowing him, he’s glaring. Four, three, two, one, we’re on the last lap, still neck and neck. 

I’m on the inside and we’ve drifted close to the wall as we round the final turn. Next thing I know, I’m too close to him and I’ve lost control of the car. I’m stuck on him as we bump into the wall together. Cars fly past us. McQueen rockets to the finish line but it doesn’t matter, he’s second to last. And I’m last.

He’s knocking on my window. Pounding might be a better word actually.

“Storm, get out of the fucking car right now!”

Looks like he really doesn’t care who hears him, I think. I open the door and as soon as my foot hits the track, McQueen is slamming me against my car.

“What the fuck was that you just pulled? Huh, Storm? Pulling me down with you cause you knew you couldn’t win? Little bitch!” His face is redder than I’ve ever seen it.

“God, I didn’t mean to, get off of me!” I say, shoving him back. He steps forward with his fist drawn back like he’s about to hit me, but a security guard grabs him. He shrugs the guy off and stalks away.

“You’re lucky, Storm,” he shakes his head and even laughs. It sounds evil.

Ray approaches me next and he has a blank face.

“That was a real dick move, I’m disappointed in you,” he says.

He reaches for my arm and we’re walking off the track. He waves off the reporters and the wild press screaming their typical questions.  
“Storm, were you trying to kill Lightning McQueen?”  
“Was that on purpose?”  
“Were you scared of Lightning?”

Ray tells me to get in the truck. I listen and he walks away to get my car.

His words: “I’m disappointed in you,” stay in my head.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! I will be alternating points of view so that we can deep dive into their pasts.

LIGHTNING

I hate him. For whatever reason, when we both started out, we pushed against each other. I’ve heard people say a number of things. They’ve said that I’m envious of him and it became disdain. They’ve said he’ll actually be my friend when we grow up a bit. And some, very few I swear, think I love him. Which is heinous to even mention.

Though, I am thinking about him now, as I’m just waking up. I thought about him last night before I went to bed. This is not me confessing my love, don’t get me wrong. I guess maybe I just see why people think that. But not really, because he’s a fucking bitch.

He always whines and pouts and is desperate for attention. And once he gets that attention he loses it. He has no charm nor does he have class. Yesterday he bumped me into a wall and we both lost, like some sort of suicide mission. I lost my cool, I would’ve hit him. I suppose I’m thankful that someone stopped me to save my reputation, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have an urge to punch his pretty boy face every single time I see him. Not that I think he’s pretty.

All this to say, I won’t deny I’m an asshole. He is merely a bigger asshole.

I let all my thoughts of Jackson Storm slip away as I leave my hotel room. Mack is a late sleeper, so I get up early to walk the towns we go to. L.A. is a little bit more than a town. The morning rush has already started, while the foot traffic isn’t terrible.

I loosen up as I see the sights and take in the sounds. It is relaxing for me despite it being loud and full. Another thing I enjoy is coffee. It is a complete necessity for me. And I spot a nice looking little coffee shop ahead of me that will certainly do the job. I order some espresso thing with my usual charm on autopilot. I give the barista a few compliments, shoot a wink to a boy sitting across the room, then settle myself at a table that I can look back out at the street at. Cars pass by as well as people, and I zone out.

_ It was a scorching Mississippi afternoon, but he and I went out to the treehouse anyway. Mama had given us cookies to take up there and then she left us alone, favoring the cool air inside. Being fifteen and curious, he snuck some of his daddy’s bourbon for us to try. We each took a hefty sip that was spat out immediately after it hit our taste buds. _

_ “Ew, that was nasty!” _

_ “Why do people even like that stuff!” _

_ Like we read each other’s minds, we each shoved a cookie in our mouths to get rid of the alcohol lingering. Then another and another till the plate was empty. One look at him and I started howling. We fell into each other laughing so hard. He reached out, balancing himself by putting his hand on my leg. It was already warm. But somehow my face grew hotter. He must’ve noticed my change in expression because he stopped laughing.. His hand didn’t move. _

_ “Something wrong, Monty?” I always liked his voice the best. It was the softest on my ears. Softer even than Mama’s buttery drawl. _

_ I gulped. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with my body. Why was it that every time he touched me, my insides melted? I wasn’t supposed to get hot all over when my best friend touched me. He’s a boy. I’m a boy. Despite the wrong, I let myself want us. _

_ “S’nothing, Levi.” _

_ His hand gripped my leg a little harder and my head shot up to look at him. There was an understanding in his eyes along with a flicker of excitement. I’d never seen this before because he had never acknowledged my obvious longing. He moved closer to me, leaning in. _

_ “Don’t lie to me, you don’t have to be afraid,” he said. And then we just looked at each other. It was more intimate a moment than any I’d ever had in my life. The two of us, admiring, loving, marrying each other with our eyes. I needed more. _

_ As an invitation, I wrapped my arm around his waist and urged him to sit on my lap. He did, quickly, gladly. This time, I didn’t stop to look, I sprang for his lips. The kiss that followed was explosive. It was magnetic. It was everything I didn’t know I was missing all in one heated moment. It showed me how hungry I was. I might have been young, but I was old enough to know what I wanted. _

_ When his tongue slipped into my mouth I was eager to push against it. I was equally as eager when I began taking his shirt off. He gasped but helped me in doing so. I removed my shirt as well. I kissed his neck and his shoulder. We moved from sitting to lying with me on top of him. I was then able to kiss his chest and stomach while his hands ran through my hair. The noises he made only encouraged me. I was in heaven making him feel that good. I began to unbutton his pants at his insistence, the arousal had been visible for a while. _

_ And then it all came crashing down. _

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” I’d know that obnoxious-ass voice anywhere.

The tears forming are gone and I roll my damp eyes. Leave it to the man I hate to pull me out of my head.

“You let losers in here now, Abby?”

The barista whom I flirted with looks at him with a friendly annoyance. 

“I let you in all these years, yes.” That makes me smile. Storm sees this and flips me off.

“Damn, salty today, huh?” He fires back.

As if they hadn’t just said those things they hug and stay that way. I can tell a few words are being shared but too quiet for me to hear.

“I guess since you saw me hug this girl I should tell you I used to live around here and I knew her in high school,” Storm says.

I nod.

“I figured something like that was the case,” I say back. 

The silence and stare down that ensued was icy cold.

Abby’s eyes widen. 

“What the fuck, I seriously got chillier watching you two,” she says, incredulous.

“Well that’s what happens when I’m in the same room as Loser McQueen, I hate him,” Storm sneers.

“The feeling’s mutual, bud.”

My nonchalant response seems to piss him off even more.

“You are a stupid, bitchy, weak idiot!” He is yelling now and yet I can’t find it in myself to care. The thoughts of Levi are clouding over me.

“Nice one. I love the way I heard you say that word for word probably a couple weeks ago. You’re so creative.” My voice stays monotone. Abby chuckles. Storm fumes.

“Goddammit you are the fucking worst, I think I’ll never hate anyone more than you.”

We look at each other. This is quite the opposite look of my first real dive into love. This look is blank on my end, malicious on the other.

“Here’s what I think. I’m rather unmotivated to fight you right now. I’m sure when the next race comes we can have a screaming match again, or crash, or kill each other, or whatever we want. For now, though, I’m going to leave this godforsaken coffee shop so that I can sulk in peace. You can keep being a heartless dick here if you so choose. Just give me a break.”

At the end of my monologue, as I walk out, I think I see something like regret cross Storm’s face. I don’t stay to find out. When I hear him shout my name, I don’t turn. I just go back to the hotel. 

The city noises don’t soothe me anymore. They make my ears ring. The people walking are a nuisance. I wish I could teleport back to my bed. Maybe if I hadn’t gone to the coffee shop, I wouldn’t have thought of Levi. But I know that isn’t true. In all honesty, I’d rather be thinking of Storm. I’d rather let all my hate set that motherfucker on fire, than let my lost love resurface. Maybe if I had yelled back at Storm I could put this vulnerability away.

So I think of him. In my brain I hit him. I scream at him. I spit in his face, I destroy his car, I hold the Piston Cup high above my head and stomp on Storm until I can’t feel the pain anymore.

And it feels good to be numb.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry guys, I'm slow

JACKSON

For a second, I swear I feel something other than hatred as I watch Lightning McQueen leave the coffee shop. It’s the same feeling I got when Ray told me he was disappointed in me. Something like regret or remorse. But only for a second. 

After staring down the street for a while, watching him walk away, I go back inside. Abby is frowning at me.

“Why do you have to do that with him?”

I shake my head.

“Do what?”

She scoffs at me. “Why are you pretending to be all hard-assed and mean?”

“Obviously because I am hard-assed and mean. You don’t get anywhere in the racing world by being soft,” I say, conjuring up my coldest tone.

Another scoff. “You know who you sound like?”

My eyes widen. I know who she is thinking of.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You sound like your father.”

_ Sports were my life. I played basketball, baseball, football, and soccer. Coaches loved me because I listened to anything they said and did it at a hundred miles an hour. I liked going fast, feeling the ache in my muscles but pushing on because the wind on my skin felt heavenly. There was no denying I was athletic. I always thought nothing could get in the way of my passion for sports. I was wrong. _

_ It started with the comments. My parents came to all my games. After them, my mother would hug me tightly and tell me I did great no matter if we won or lost. She would say she admired how hard I worked. My father on the other hand only ever pointed out the bad things I did. _

_ “That pass sucked, Jackson, your ball handling was weak today, you ran like a girl out there,” etc, etc. _

_ Eventually, he wouldn’t let me eat if I didn’t play to his standards. My mother tried to protest, but he was too intimidating. _

_ “Winners get to eat! No son of mine will be a loser!” _

_ That’s where body image issues began for me. He would say the horrible things he did and I started to believe them. Even after games that he would give me food I’d only eat a little bit. Times that no one was stopping me from eating anything I wouldn’t. I developed severe anorexia and it ruined my sports career.  _

_ With my declining performance began the physical abuse. One night we were walking in the door after probably the worst basketball game of my life and as soon as I closed the door I felt a white-hot pain on my cheek. It took me a moment to register what happened, but when I saw his expression I realized he had hit me. _

_ “Dad? What the fuck?” _

_ My words only made him angrier. _

_ “You are a disgrace. You missed every shot you took, you ran slower than the fat white kid on the other team, and you look like a twig. Get a hold of yourself you little shit." _

_ I did get a hold of myself. I realized that every day I stayed in that godforsaken home with my father, I’d be a day closer to a death at his hands. I was scared. But not scared enough to stay put. _

_ “You know what? I’m done with you! You treat me like dirt for doing the best I can! You ruined me. Completely and totally ruined me!” _

_ I turned my back to stomp up the stairs and he kicked my leg. I fell hard, my knee crashed against the bottom step. _

_ “I don’t care if you think I ruined you. You’re no son of mine anyway.” _

_ Tears were running down my cheeks from the pain. I mustered up the last bit of strength I had to get up and climb the staircase. I looked back at him from the top. _

_ “Well if I’m not your son then I’m leaving.” _

_ He muttered some curse words but did not protest. My mother was there, but it didn’t feel like she was. She was just watching. Maybe she was in shock that she was about to lose her only child. Maybe she was scared of my father like me. Probably a good mix of both. I put together some things: clothes, shoes, personal stuff and headed back down to the door. _

_ On my way out I threw up my middle finger. _

_ “Oh also, I’m gay.” _

The look I give Abby must be sad because her stiff demeanor melts away.

“Look, I’m sorry I said that. You’re not him. But sometimes you say things. Like you just did. And those things sound like him creeping back into your head. Are you still going to that therapist?”

My eyes fall to my feet, and I avoid her gaze. The answer is no. Which she clearly recognizes.

“Shit, Jackie, why are you putting yourself through all this trouble? You don’t have to be ashamed of going to see someone.”

My head comes up so fast I probably break my neck.

“I am ashamed!” I yell.

The few people in the shop observe the commotion so I move in closer and lower my voice.

“The racing community isn’t exactly progressive. As much as I’d love to be comfortable going to my therapist I’m not. I’m afraid of everyone finding out and ruining my reputation. I’m already black and gay, and the gay thing would put me under as is. Add on the stigma of therapy and they’ll think I’m the antichrist,” I say pinching the bridge of my nose. A headache is starting to form.

Abby reaches over the counter and places her hand on my shoulder.

“I know it’s hard. And I know your reputation means a lot to you. You’ve done so well for yourself so far and I’m proud of you! But you can’t let other people keep you from getting some peace of mind. You have to take care of yourself,” she replies. 

She leans closer and wraps her arms around me so we’re hugging again. I breathe in deep, the smell of her perfume and coffee blending together.

“I love you, Abby. Always will.”

“I love you too, Jackie.”

We pull away. When we do she’s smirking.

“Sappy stuff aside, you have something for Lightning, don’t you?”

I groan, adding a fake gag for emphasis.

“What is with you and insisting I have a thing for him? I don’t. He is my rival.”

“You’ve got yourself one sexy rival. If you don’t like him, I’ll take--”

Before I can think I cut her off with a yelp, “NO!”

The people around us stare again. I clear my throat, trying to play off the loud statement.

“Um, I mean no, because then he might, uh, not have as much time to focus on racing? Yeah, and then he won’t be as good and then we can’t be rivals. You know what I’m saying?” I sound like a fucking idiot.

Abby is loving every second of it.

“Of course, whatever you say.”

I can tell she wants to say more but another customer walks in so she shoos me out.

“Thanks for stopping by, Jackie.”

I wave and walk out onto the sunny streets. I remember how Lightning just walked this way. And I decide that when I see him at the next race, I’ll lighten up.

But only a little.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck fuck fuck, I'm sorry this took a billion years, but I hope the content will make up for it. Thanks, everyone for bearing with me and being patient!!

LIGHTNING

The race today is exactly what I need. It makes me remember my dreams, my hard work. It lets me shut out the ghosts from my past so fucking insistent on haunting me. When Storm walks by and flips me off I’m ready with my signature smirk, the one that drops people to their knees. He may not fall, but I see the venomous glare falter for a split second. And that makes my smirk a smile as I go to my car.

The speedway here in Atlanta is easily one of my favorites, and the crowd is energized as ever. I hear a chorus of my name in the stands. I wouldn’t be surprised if I floated off the ground with how big my head is inflating right now. Slipping on my helmet though manages to silence everything. It’s just me, my car, and my big-ass ego.

The time in between getting in my car and the waving of the green flag feels like none. I lead the pack just like everyone knew I would. Maybe Storm is next to me, maybe he’s not. Who the hell cares about him? I’m the real star.

With every straight away, I’m more in tune with my car. I hit 201 miles per hour and when I get out of the next turn I’m at 204. Nothing gets me exhilarated like these high speeds. I was born to race, born to be here no matter what any of my family has said about it.

I win with hardly any opposition as if my so-called rival wasn’t even racing. My smile is genuine while the cameras flash and reporters ask questions.

“Lightning! You won today by a considerable margin and had taken the lead in points over Jackson Storm, how does it feel, and does this fuel you going into next week?”

“Oh absolutely. After a difficult race last weekend this one really has me flying high. Currently, I feel completely untouchable and no one is changing that.” I can see the headlines already.

“That’s the Lightning confidence we’ve all come to adore! One more question for you, do you think you’re prepared for the final race in Daytona? It’s fast approaching!”

“I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that I’m taking home the Piston Cup. Thanks for coming out here, everyone.”

***

I’m in the garage waiting for Mack to bring the truck around when suddenly I’m pushed up against the wall. His forearm is across my chest and his face is way too close to mine. 

“Jackson Storm, to what do I owe--”

“Don’t play that game with me you little shit,” he practically growls the words at me.

“Goddamn, you on your period or something?” I ask with an innocent grin.

This makes him madder as I had hoped. He pushes harder against me, knocking my head back hard enough for it to hurt. 

“Ow, fuck, what do you want--”

He cuts me off again.

“Your interview? You feel untouchable? No doubt in your mind?”

His eyes are so wide and look into mine with an intensity I’ve never seen before, sweat drips down his forehead in beads, and his hair is all matted down from the helmet: he looks like a psychopath.

I don’t say anything, I just keep looking at him, so he continues to talk.

“Well, I’m here to show that you are touchable. Cause I’m doing it right now,” he shoves me again,” Feel that?”

His words throw me out of my body, right into my head.

_ “Feel that?” God, his voice was so sexy. _

_ I definitely felt that, and he knew I did. He likes hearing my whimpers as I try to respond. _

_ “Fuck, yes, Levi, ugh.” The words barely pass my lips as he hits the spot again. _

_ After our encounter in the treehouse, everything did come crashing down. There was no going back to the way we were before. With my mouth on his dick, he whispered three words that changed the course of my life. And now here we are: in my room two years later, parents gone for the weekend, and hundreds of intimate moments under our belts, quite literally in fact. There was no one I trusted or cared for like I did Levi. I felt safe with his hands on me, and I called out his name with no shame at all, for it was burned away by our hot kisses. _

Storm’s voice echoes in my mind, and so does Levi’s. My feelings are mixing together, creating a dangerous attraction. An attraction to the wrong person.

Only a few seconds have passed, but Storm doesn’t look nearly as angry anymore. We stare wide-eyed at each other. 

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“What?” He tilts his head in confusion.

When he does I press my lips to his, only needing to move a few inches. It feels hot, so hot. This is a desire I haven't felt for years. Why does it have to be Jackson Storm and why does he have to bring back the painful memories?

_ His fingers are still up my ass as he works me down, he kisses me gently first, then harder. And we go again, taking turns bringing each other over the edge. We go all fucking night. Light drifts into the room, we collapse onto the bed, cuddling close. _

_ “I love you, Monty. More than anything else in the world.” _

Storm flies backward, a million different expressions running across his face. And we’re just looking at each other again.

“Fuck,” he whispers this time, the same panicked yet longing tone I had before the kiss.

Instead of sprinting for the hills like I thought he would, he comes back to me. Suddenly, our mouths are pressing together, an unyielding force behind them. It’s rough, messy, not quite right, but neither of us seems to register anything except for the tension building.

My hands roam freely up and down his body. I grip his ass hard, making him squirm a little. One of his hands yanks my head back by my hair so that our lips detach; his find a new home on my neck. I yelp in surprise and stumble back. I’m pinned between Storm’s strong body and the wall, and shit it is making me hard.

My hips roll against his while he keeps marking my neck. I groan as he bites particularly hard by my collarbone. I feel him produce a similar noise. He is just as hard. Then the garage door starts to open.

_ We kiss lightly, muttering compliments. Levi makes the morning after a long night better than I ever imagined. Our foreheads are pressed together, arms around each other. And the door opens. _

_ “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, MONTGOMERY MCQUEEN?” _

_ Levi and I jumped apart but held onto the sheets to cover the fact that we were naked. _

_ My father caught us. _

Storm separates from me and runs out a side door. We meet eyes for a split second, and he looks scared. Probably as scared as I feel. But there’s also pining.

Mack is on the other side of the garage door.

“Ready to go?” He asks. He has to notice the hickies, boner, and my overall disheveled appearance, but he doesn’t mention it.

I can’t even say anything, I’m frozen. I think of Storm and I almost having sex just seconds ago and then nearly getting caught. I think of Levi and my father and the moment my life changed for a second time. What the fuck is going on with me?

“Uh, yeah, sure, cool.”

He doesn’t press any further. I get into the passenger side of the truck. Mack pulls my car into the trailer and then gets in the front.

“Are you okay, buddy?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” I say because it’s true. I don’t know what is happening.

“Okay, well, if you need to talk I’m always here for you.” Mack starts the car and I look over at him. His gaze is protective, fatherly even.

“I know.” I give him as much of a smile as I can.

He takes that as a response and we drive out of the speedway. As we do I try not to let my thoughts overtake me. I realize how tired I really am and quickly doze off.

The Storm situation will just have to wait until tomorrow.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite unreliable at updating, but here! a new update!!!!

JACKSON

Atlanta to Talladega is an easy drive and we get there with plenty of time for me to leave. It only takes me an hour to get to Birmingham and as soon as I find one, I’m knocking back shots at a gay bar. After what happened with me and Lightning, I am desperate to clear my head, and quite honestly, desperate for a hook-up. 

So when I get flirted with I let it happen. I lean into a guy’s touch, I let someone buy me a drink, I dance a little too close to someone else. Eventually, I leave the bar with someone. It’s sloppy sex, not quite right, but I don’t mind. It felt similar to my first time fucking a guy: the time I snuck a boy into Abby’s house.

_After running away from my abusive father I found myself on Abby’s doorstep. She lived in L.A. with her mom and dad which was conveniently only an hour or so bus ride away from my house. I had met her at a summer camp one year and we bonded over our sexuality seeing as she's bisexual. She told me that if I ever needed somewhere to stay, her parents were very supportive and were happy to help out._

_Tears were running down my face and bruises were forming where I had received the blows. Abby’s father answered the door. It was around midnight and I looked terrible, and yet he knew exactly who I was as if he was waiting for me._

_“Are you Jackson?”_

_I nod and without another word, he ushered me inside. He lent me clothes that were too big because they were his. He pointed me to their bathroom where I showered. I peeled off my clothes and inspected my wounds. It was hard to look at. The shower however was excellent. When I left the bathroom I saw him in the kitchen making me soup. Upon seeing me enter the room, he placed a bowl on the island with a sympathetic smile._

_“When you’re done, the second door down that hallway on the right is a spare room. I’m going to head back to bed, I have a big meeting tomorrow. But feel free to eat anything else in the fridge if you’re still hungry. Goodnight, Jackson,” he said quietly then left the room._

_I was overwhelmed at how quickly he let me into his home. He made me food, let me use his things, and all in such a short span of time. I immediately trusted him. Even though I only ate a couple of bites of the soup, I was full of warmth and relief._

_The next day Abby greeted me sympathetically and rubbed my back as I cried and cried. I may not have liked my dad but it was still my home. After my first full day at Abby’s, I was able to settle into a routine. They helped me enroll in Abby’s school, and it was there that I met Dylan. We met simply because Abby dragged me to one of her GSA meetings. Throughout the whole thing, he was staring at me. He was pretty good-looking: tan skin, shaggy brown hair, and particularly striking green eyes. I indulged in it because I was looking to fill the hole in my life._

_Instead of walking home with Abby, I made out with Dylan behind the school. It was my first time kissing a guy, but it was much better than any girl I’d kissed. Then he sucked my dick and that was excellent. It seemed to me like he had done it before, making me feel a little self-conscious. So after we parted ways, I watched a lot of porn before I saw him again. At the next GSA meeting, I gladly went with Abby. She knew why because I told her. I could never keep something like this away from her._

_In just an hour I was on my knees in front of Dylan. It was a strange experience. For one thing, I didn’t like feeling small. Looking up at him made me feel powerless, just like the way my dad made me feel powerless. I didn’t mind the action of sucking him off, he was pretty long and when he came I liked the taste. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort. Later that night after thorough google searches, I came across the terms top and bottom. I remembered Abby saying something about being a top, and after understanding what it meant I realized that I was a top too. The thought of having power during sex was turning me on._

_Another meeting with Dylan, and this time I asked him if he was a top or bottom. He said bottom. That got me excited. I invited him to Abby’s on Saturday because they had a family gathering that I knew I could get out of. Dylan said he’d bring lube and condoms. I had found out about lube in my google searches so I was thankful he had some._

_Saturday came quickly and since I had told Abby about my plans, she did not fight me about staying. It felt like Dylan was in my bed as soon as they had left. I was on top of him, roughly kissing his mouth, and the sounds I was able to coax out of him as I ground my hips on his were wonderful. I kissed his neck and removed his shirt so I could kiss his chest. And he was fucking loud. I couldn’t take it anymore._

_“Why don’t you make those noises while my dick is in your mouth?”_

_It escaped my lips quickly but it felt right. He responded by flipping us over, removing my pants and underwear, and immediately taking in my whole dick._

_“Jesus Christ!” I called out._

_He was good, so good. I couldn’t help but let my hips buck upward. I was entranced by the choked noises. Before I could come, I grabbed his hair and yanked him back._

_“I want to fuck you.”_

_His eyes grew wide but he eagerly reached for the lube. He explained that I’d need to use my fingers first. So one finger at a time I shallowly fucked him, slow then fast then slow again. He was panting and whining and by the time I had gone through a couple of cycles with my third finger, he said he was ready._

_I put lube all over my dick (which I had rolled a condom over) and I pushed right in. He yelped in surprise and told me to slow down so I did. I got a rhythm going and I was already so close, but he was now begging for me to get faster. Once I started moving I was going as hard as I could. Dylan was moaning so hard, tears ran down his face, and his dick was straight up leaking. I got a hand on it and as soon as I did he came. Nearly simultaneously, I came too. We laid next to each other, not saying a word._

_I broke the silence._

_“That was, um, that was awesome.”_

_“I agree.” He replies._

_“Do it again sometime?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Then he left._

The next night I find myself at the same bar. This time I sit on the outskirts and just have some drinks. I am there for about an hour when I see an unmistakable face. Gorgeous blonde hair, bright blue eyes, goddamn is that eyeliner? It’s Lightning Mc-fucking-Queen. He is at the same bar as I am. He’s right there. God, why? Why, why, why?

I probably could go unnoticed, but I can’t take my eyes off him. I will my brain to think of hateful things, to be angry. It doesn’t work. He just looks so carefree, so comfortable, so _stunning._ He glances in my direction and he seems shocked. Naturally.

_He’s your rival, you hate him, shit, he’s walking this way._

“Jackson Storm?” 

He knows it’s me, but I nod. He sits down at the booth so that we are across from each other, face to face. We stare. I imagine being in the garage again, I see the hickies I left behind. He must recognize that I’m looking at them.

“What the hell was that day about?” He blurts out.

“If I recall you kissed me.”

“You kissed back.”

We go silent. The pause feels like forever.

“People can’t know about this, we’re supposed to hate each other,” he says quietly.

“There is no ‘this’ for people to know about. And we do hate each other.”

He pauses again, his gaze planted firmly at the table. He says something I can’t hear over the sound of the music.

“What?” I ask.

“Give me more.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He looks up at me again.

“Give me more hickies. Give me more than just the garage.”


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year everyone, enjoy this update!!

LIGHTNING

The look he gives me makes me want to shrivel up and die. His eyes have narrowed as he takes a slow sip of his drink. The bar’s flashing lights cast a rainbow of colors across his face that unfortunately do not make him look any less intimidating. He has already shaken me up. I swore that I was going to be numb, but all it took was him talking like Levi to throw that all away. He has not left my mind since the garage and I’ve been presented with an opportunity to get what I want. God, I can’t believe I want him. Jackson Storm, the absolute shithead.

“What makes you think I want to fuck you?” He asks suddenly.

I scratch the back of my neck. This is more awkward than I had hoped. Though hoping for an automatic agreement was probably foolish of me.

“Well, I mean, I never said you wanted that but with what happened in the garage and all--”

“Like I said, you kissed me.” He has a good poker face, I can’t get a read on his emotions at all.

“And like I said, you kissed back and also gave me these.” I make a gesture towards my neck which I know he has seen.

The dead air between us is utterly painful. His eyes search my face, they land back on my neck. 

“What will we do if I agree?”

“We’ll go to the hotel I booked a room in. It’s only a block away,” I say. Probably too quickly because he gives me a judgemental look. I don’t feel judged for very long; his glance changes into something new. Aroused. 

“I have some conditions if we’re going to do this,” he replies. All I can do is nod.

“First off, this is one night only. After tonight we never talk about this again. We’ll be back to sworn enemies and that’s when I’ll beat your ass for the Piston Cup. Second, there will be no cuddling. We fuck, we sleep, I leave tomorrow before you wake up. I’ll say it again just to be clear; we will not talk about it. Ever.” He stops and his eyes narrow. His gaze burns into me. I almost forget that we’re in the club.

“Um, yeah fine, can we go now?”

***

As soon as I open the door to the hotel, it’s closed and I’m pinned against it. A gasp leaves my mouth and Jackson dives right in. Our lips lock in a fiery kiss. Just like before, the heat in it is overwhelming. The same heat that Levi had.

“Fuck!” I groan. His lips have moved to my neck where he roughly sucks at the existing red patches. My hands wander around his body until I land on his front. His dick is getting hard and I can see it through his clothes. I gently graze over it with my hand which earns me a twitch of his hips. When he bites and kisses my neck harder, I apply more pressure. We continue this until he abruptly backs away, takes a look up and down my body, and then grabs for the hem of my shirt.

In a flash my chest is bare and he follows. It is instant pleasure, the feeling of skin on skin as he comes back to kiss me. He bites my bottom lip gently then runs his tongue over it to almost soothe it. It’s my turn to pull away. When I do, I turn us around so that Jackson’s back is against the door instead of mine. I drop to the floor, pulling his pants and boxers down together so that his dick springs up out of them. He hisses at the shock, but soon he smirks.

“Isn’t this a sight? Lightning McQueen on his knees for me. I must say--” I cut him off by licking over the tip of his dick which draws a moan out of him. Levi always said I gave the best blowjobs.

JACKSON

I can’t say this is what I was expecting. I’ll admit this might have crossed my mind in the middle of the night, but wow. He’s much better than in my head.

We move to the bed after he sucks me off. The begs and moans that escape his lips are heavenly and make me move that much faster, thrusting harder. 

“Look at you, imagine what the world would think if they saw you now. Big shot Lightning McQueen likes it up the ass and he looks like a pathetic little mess getting fucked into the mattress,” I say. He moans louder, clearly enjoying the insults. I never pegged him as a dirty talk guy, but I’m not disappointed. He finishes first and it gets all over his torso. I continue to fuck him through it, drawing out the orgasm as he yells out my name. I pull out abruptly and finish on him, making it mix together on his toned abs. Fuck, this isn’t going to leave my head.

I leave the next morning when it’s still dark. The way Lightning is sprawled out under the sheets, mouth hanging open just a little bit, gives me a glimpse of a future I want; I shut that down immediately and walk out. I turn the music up too loud in an effort to clear my mind. I get to the track and Ray is there for my practice slot, a blank stare being sent my way. Instead of saying something to him like I know I should, I get in my car and get going. Time to focus.

LIGHTNING

He’s gone when I wake up the next morning. I didn’t think he’d be here, but my heart still drops. I’m officially attached to the douchebag. I shouldn’t be. I’m just confusing him for Levi. Then again, Levi never fucked me like Jackson did last night. 

The drive back to Talladega is both too short and too long: too long to be thinking about him in silence, too short because my head isn’t ready to race. Mack greets me at the track with a curious expression. He seems worried. 

“Hey, you didn’t answer my call last night when I was checking in, I’m glad you’re here now though, Storm has been at it all morning.” I look out and he’s right. The black and blue race car I’ve come to despise is roaring around every turn. 

“I’m sorry about missing your call, I was drunk and crashed pretty early.” The lie feels gross leaving my mouth, especially considering I’m talking to Mack. He’s not convinced yet he nods and hands me my keys. “I’m a huge fucking dick, aren’t I?” I whisper to myself as I get into my car. 

Other racers are arriving to watch practice. We all get a two-hour slot across a few days. Mine is next and I pull up to the entrance as he is leaving. When he stops the car I do the same, getting out as he does. “Hey,” I say. He looks me up and down, eyes not missing a single part of my body just like last night. A blush is rising on my cheeks. Jesus.

“Hey yourself,” he replies. His voice sounds deeper than usual, he has to be doing it on purpose. But then I remember his conditions. He’s just egging me on. He can tell I’m into him and he’s playing me.

“You’re a bitch you know that.” 

He smirks and strolls right up to me.

“Well, you’re a little whore,” he says into my ear, “enjoy your practice, baby.” He gives me a little shove and my back hits the car with a thump. My knees are weak and I can’t take my gaze off of him as he gets back in his car and cruises to his truck. What the actual fuck was that?

JACKSON

Maybe that was cruel, but I never said in my conditions that I wouldn’t have a little fun with him. The piece of shit deserves it for stealing my heart.


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is almost coming to a close seeing as the last race will be in the next few chapters. Thank you for over a thousand hits and almost 100 kudos!! I truly appreciate all the support and I hope you like it!

JACKSON

My bravado from the track yesterday has completely disappeared from existence, and my whole body is buzzing from stress. Today is the last race before Daytona, and if I don’t win, Lightning will win the Piston Cup. Everything around me is Lightning: the red wildflowers I spotted by the woods behind the track, the talk about a thunderstorm moving in the direction of Talladega, the chatter from other racers who whisper his name as I pass. I’m tired of it and it does nothing to help my insistent anxiety surrounding the race.

I walk to the truck and sit in the passenger seat trying to get my bearings when Ray enters through the driver’s side. I’ve been ignoring him and seeing his face lets me know that he is pissed. He buckles his seat belt and motions for me to do the same without a word and he takes us out onto the nearest highway.

“Ray, the race is in a few hours where--”

“Stop,” Ray says with a fiery intensity. It scares me more than I’d like to admit, so I listen. “I am going to drive us to our destination then you are going to talk to me about everything that’s been going on with you. If you choose not to say anything, we’ll head right back to the track, I’ll drop you off, and by the end of the race, a replacement driver will be there to take you to Daytona. I care about you, son, and I cannot stand another day of the bullshit.”

My eyes are wide, and I am too taken aback to speak. Instead, I face forward and watch as he takes the next exit, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. We end up in a neighborhood and he stops in front of a seemingly random house, but the fond way he is looking at it tells me that it means something to him. 

“This right here was my childhood home,” he says quietly, continuing to gaze at the house. 

“Really?” I ask and he nods in response.

“I was a teenager when we first moved into the neighborhood, and I couldn’t have been angrier. My school, my friends, my girlfriend, my entire life was back in Mississippi. They moved because my father got a job working at some garage in Talladega that worked on race cars. Little did I know the move would show me my greatest passion.”

I sit in contemplative silence, wondering why he is showing me his old house. As if reading my mind, he goes on.

“You’re probably wondering why I’d tell you this, but I wanted to let you know that I haven’t been a middle-aged man my whole life. I was a teenager too, an angry one. I wanted to live my life and be free and be wild. There’s nothing wrong with wanting freedom, I just want to make sure that you are okay. I honestly care about you so much, Jackson, and you need to tell me what’s going on. I can tell you’re struggling.”

His words wash over me and tears begin to burn behind my eyes. Before I can completely lose my shit, I take a deep breath and just start talking.

“You’re right, you’re so right. In fact, you’ve always been right. You were right about my feelings toward Lightning, you’re right that I’ve been putting up walls, you’re right that I’m full of bullshit. No one has cared about me the way you have. My father was a fucking dick and so having you is new to me. I’m a trainwreck--”

“You’re not a trainwreck, you are human. Everyone struggles, okay?”

I nod with the knowledge that I wouldn't be able to speak without choking up as the tears have made their way into my eyes, blurring my view of my lap. 

“What’s going on with you and Lightning?”

Hearing his name was a wrecking ball to my dam of emotions. I cry and cry and I barely notice when Ray reaches over with a gentle hand to rub my back. I should be embarrassed that he is seeing me like this, but I’m too tired of everything to care. He continues to soothe me until I’ve relaxed enough to tell him about what happened.

“It started after he told some reporters that he felt untouchable. I went to confront him, shove him around a little bit, but when I did it’s like a switch flipped in him or something because he kissed me. Lightning McQueen kissed me on the mouth in his garage. I was surprised but also into it, so I kissed him back, then I ran off before his driver saw us.”

Ray doesn’t seem as shocked as I thought he’d be, just nodding along with my story. Maybe he and Mack talk to each other about their suspicions. 

“And then two days ago in Birmingham, we fucked in a hotel room.” I drop the news quickly and this gets Ray’s attention.

“Seriously?”

“Would I bullshit you about this after being extremely vulnerable?”

“Okay no, why did you think it was a good idea to go fuck your main competition? You have to race against him today. You also have to beat him to have a chance at the Piston Cup. How are you supposed to do that if you fucked him?”

“You think I can’t do no-strings-attached sex?” I ask, slightly hurt.

“Yup, especially since you’ve been obsessed with him since this season has started,” Ray retorts.

“I was obsessed with him because I hated him!” I really did hate him in the beginning. It didn’t last very long but it was there!

“Sure. Let’s move on from the sex talk and instead we will talk about how you can get focused for the race and tune out your little affair.”

“Ray,” I say annoyed, “there was no need for the affair comment, especially since you said that we were done with the sex talk.”

“Jackson,” Ray replies, mocking me, “I can say whatever I want to you because you ignored me for weeks.”

“That’s fair.”

“Damn right it is, let’s focus now.”

***

“Jackson, over here!”

“Storm, Storm that was a great race today!”

“Where did this new-found clarity come from?”

“Alright, alright, one question at a time. This new-found clarity, hm, I’ll be honest, it came in a talk I had today with my driver and pit crew chief, Ray Reverham. He’s always been like a father to me and we had a really nice heart to heart before the race that allowed me to really tune in to winning and tune out distractions,” I say to the barrage of reporters. It felt like I won the race with my eyes closed. Before I knew it I was here, pleasing the media.

“That is very touching Jackson, what are your thoughts going into the race at Daytona next week? You and Lightning are tied for points, so whichever one of you places the highest will be the one to take home the Piston Cup. Does this race give you momentum over him?”

I think for a moment, and in my thinking, I catch eyes with the one and only. I’m in such a happy mood that I flash him a smile, and he reacts like he saw a ghost. Lightning shuffles off without another glance my way, so I finish what I wanted to say.

“I’m going into the race next week with a winning mentality. I can’t affect anyone else, but I know that I can control how I drive, so that’s what I’m going to do. My win today allowed me to prove myself to, well, myself, so yes I do think it gave me momentum. Thank you all for coming out today, see you in Florida!” I’m satisfied with my answer, so I push past all the flashing cameras and microphones to where I saw Lightning walk off, to his garage I imagine.

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this, but my talk with Ray really did provide me with clarity. The only way to focus myself is to tell him how I feel. That way, if he rejects me, I’ll let the hatred consume me once again. If he is interested in me too, then I’ll get the focus that comes with someone who releases your tension. I swing open the side door and walk right in.

“Lightning.”


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mapped out the story to the end and so there will be two more chapters after this one! Thank you to everyone who has been reading, leaving kudos, and leaving comments, it really means a lot. I have plans for some oneshots that will take place in the Ruin Me universe, including highlighting my OC's a bit more, so let me know if you guys would be interested in that at all! Enjoy the update!!!

LIGHTNING

I’m spiraling. Because every other thought I have is of Jackson Storm. My mind has been foggy since the hotel room, but the panic fully set in when I realized that not even racing could break through it all. I had no chance to catch him because my heart wasn’t in it. Then he fucking smiled at me. The last person that smiled at me like that was, who else, Levi. Levi  _ loved _ me. And Jackson Storm? He smiled at me like he loved me, and I’m realizing it all now in my car, waiting for nothing in particular.

A sudden surge of anger washes over me, taking control of my hands so that they are repeatedly hitting the steering wheel. If I hit any harder the airbags would probably pop out, but my mind shoves that away in favor of releasing all that I can. A tear runs down my face and onto my arm, many more follow and I’m nothing more than a man crying in his car alone. 

“Lightning.”  _ Of course _ , it’s him, of-fucking-course. I’d much rather be alone than for him to see me like this.

“Lightning?” This time his voice is laced with concern, he must have a clearer view of me. I hastily wipe my face of the wetness, but I know that I still look bad, especially based on the way he is looking at me now.

Storm goes around to the passenger side and gets in, not bothering to ask.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I ask him quietly. Like always, his face is unreadable. I’m pretty sick of it because evaluating the looks people give me helps me keep my cool. Though I don’t have any cool left, so I guess it doesn’t matter.

“I came to talk to you, but you don’t look so good,”  _ No shit _ , “are you okay?”

With the harshest glare, I can muster I say, “Absolutely. I have never felt so wonderful in my entire life. I’m on fucking cloud nine, and no, I’m not having a meltdown because I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful my rival is. No, I’m not falling apart because that beautiful rival keeps doing things that remind me of the person that I thought I’d be with forever. No, I am the epitome of joy and sunshine and goddamn rainbows!” It takes me a second to process, but I just yelled that last sentence. We are plunged into a terrible silence, and part of me wishes I kept talking, but then I would have shared too much.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Wow, I want to start yelling again, he’s so conceited, but then I realize that I can finally read his face. The utter hope that fills his eyes tells me that no one has ever told him he is beautiful, and he likely did not get many regular compliments, let alone a romantic one. An ounce of sympathy crawls into my heart as a result, however, I’m in no mood to let it grow.

“Yeah, I do.” The annoyance that drips into my tone must make him recognize the way his question sounded because he attempts to backtrack.

“Shit, I’m sorry, that’s literally not important, this is about you, sorry, I just--”

“Storm,” I say, cutting him off, “please ignore everything I said, you’re not very helpful, and tell me what you came here for.”

“Okay, um, I don’t hate you, I think I like you, in a sexual--er more than just a sexual kind of way,” he says as he wrings his hands in his lap.

“What?” I’m dumbfounded. Is this him confessing his feelings? He has feelings?

“I like you, Lightning.” 

“Montgomery.” My name slips out of my mouth before I’m even thinking about it. Bad move, such a bad move.

“Huh?”

“My name isn’t Lightning, I sincerely hope you knew that, my name is Montgomery McQueen.” I’m regretting being alive and then a smile appears on Storm’s face and it’s like I’m bathed in some sort of holy angel light or something. Maybe not a bad move.

“Montgomery,” he says, seemingly testing it out, “Montgomery, I like that.”

“You’d be one of the only ones,” I reply.

He laughs and I almost do too. “No wonder you go by Lightning, not many nicknames for Montgomery, maybe Monty? Anyone ever call you that?”

_ “Something wrong, Monty?” _

_ “I love you so much, Monty, darling.” _

_ “Monty, what would I do without you?” _

_ “When I look at you, Monty, I see the rest of my life in your eyes.” _

It is in that moment, as he utters that fucking nickname, that I realize how wrong this whole thing is. Storm shouldn’t be here, making me laugh, saying my real name. The real Storm is a manipulative dick who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. The real Storm would never confess anything to me because he’s a hit and quit guy. 

“Get out.” 

“What?”

“Get out right now,” I say frantically as panic rises in my chest making it hard to breathe. The car is suffocating, it’s closing in on me, so I throw the door open and leap out of it. I back up until my back hits the garage wall. Storm follows me and the whole scene is starting to feel too familiar.

“Lightning what did I say? What’s wrong?” It seems like there is genuine care in his questions, but I know it can’t be real. I stay quiet, sucking in deep breaths but never quite getting enough air. Storm notices. He moves a step closer and places both his hands on my shoulders, gentle yet grounding.

“Okay, don’t answer that, I can help you calm down. First, you inhale through your nose for four seconds,” he starts doing it so I go along with him, “hold that breath for seven seconds. Good, now exhale through your mouth for 8 seconds. And now we do it again.”

Instead of allowing my brain--that is saying this is crazy--to get the best of me, I push all my thoughts to the side in an attempt to buy into this breathing thing that Storm is leading me through. I close my eyes tentatively and let go. When I get to the third time, I’m relaxed. The fourth time is just as good, and I’m fully aware of the warmth that is flowing into my body via the hands on me. After another cycle or two, I take a peek at him. 

His deep brown eyes unrelentingly stare into mine, but the shine in them is comforting. Actually, his entire face has softened into an expression that sends butterflies into a frenzy in my stomach. I can only describe it as the feeling I get when I return home after an exhausting day of racing. I’m overwhelmed. By disappointment, anxiety, fear, but also by this moment, and the warmth in my heart that yearns for him. Jackson. So, there is nothing left for me to do but kiss him.

It is terrifying how natural it feels to put a hand behind his neck and pull him down to my lips. Equally terrifying is how quickly he melts right into it, drawing me close to him so that his entire body is on mine. We fall into the perfect rhythm of sweet yet firm kisses. He tastes like mint chewing gum and I remember the flavor from the first time we made out in this garage. 

“Jackson,” I murmur, breaking the kiss. He leans down so that our foreheads meet gently.

“Mm?” God he sounds so content, it's fucking adorable.

“I think I like you too.”

He smiles, eyes still closed like he is savoring every word that I say. “I’d hope so, kissing someone usually means you like them.”

A thought crosses my mind, and it’ll ruin the moment, but I know I should address it.

“If we are going to move forward with this, though, I need to tell you about...my past a little bit,” I say slowly, putting more space between us so that I can look at him.

“There aren’t many things that will scare me off if that’s what you’re afraid of,” he replies with confidence.

I shake my head. “Even if it doesn’t scare you off, it’s important that I tell you, so, here goes. I grew up in Mississippi in a very conservative home, and yet I managed to find love. He was my best friend, Levi. Every second I was with him, I was happy. He cared about me, he was so kind, and both of us planned on running away together someday, getting married, starting a family.” I pause to gauge his reaction. His gaze is supportive, not a hint of jealousy or annoyance. It encourages me to continue.

“We did our best to maintain our relationship under the radar, but when I was seventeen, just a couple months before we were going to leave so that I could start my racing career, my dad caught us in bed together. He yanked me out of the bed, screaming, and then he turned to Levi and told him that if he ever saw him with me again, he’d kill him. He got into his truck, drove away, and that was the last time I ever got to be with him. Because--” I choke on the words, and tears begin to fall down my face.

Storm reaches up and cups my face with both hands, tenderly brushing away the droplets with his thumbs.

“You don’t have to say it all now if you don’t want to, we have plenty of time,” he whispers.

I nod, going through the breathing cycle he taught me. It feels like such a long time ago, but in reality, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes since then. When I manage to calm down, I keep going.

“That was the last time I saw him because after he left my house he got into a really bad car accident and he died. His parents called that night, I was the one that picked up the phone. I didn’t hear anything past his mom crying to me that he was killed. And then I didn’t leave my room for a week. I nearly committed suicide, but I knew that Levi wouldn’t want that. So when I could walk without crumbling to the floor in tears, I ran away. I haven’t been back home since. Meeting you and realizing my feelings for you have brought a lot of memories of him back. You remind me of him a little bit.” In the midst of talking I must have started crying again because my face is dripping. 

Storm wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a tight embrace.

“I am so, so sorry, Lightning. I don’t know how it feels to lose someone like that, but I do know what it’s like to have a shitty homophobe for a dad. You don’t deserve any of the heartache and pain you’ve experienced. Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says as he rubs my back.

It hurts, and I know it always will, but telling Storm about Levi and just letting it all out lifts a weight up off my shoulders. I feel safe standing here in his arms.

“Thank you,” I mumble into the crook of his neck.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Being there for you is something I’ll do no matter what.” He breaks away from our embrace, plants a kiss on my head, and my heart soars.

When it is time for him to go he presses his lips to mine one more time then starts for the door. 

“I’ll find you in Daytona, okay?” He says on his way out.

“Okay.” It’s more than okay--it’s wonderful.


End file.
